


I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole

by blackkat



Series: useless porn scraps [19]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Fluff, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, PWP, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-28 00:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13891974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “That’s the best you could do for a disguise?” Shikamaru huffs, but his fingers are digging into Kiba's hips through the thin fabric.





	I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole

**Author's Note:**

> Technically set in a possible future of my Akatsuki spy!Kiba, but that's easy enough to gloss over if you haven't read the other fics.

 “That’s the best you could do for a disguise?” Shikamaru huffs, but his fingers are digging into Kiba's hips through the thin fabric.

It makes Kiba laugh, draping his arms around Shikamaru's neck as he leans in. “You're the one who wanted to meet in a whorehouse,” he points out, feels Shikamaru swallow hard and hides his grin.

“As _customers_ ,” Shikamaru says, a little strangled, and Kiba's at just the right angle to see the way his eyes flicker down to Kiba's thighs, bare where the kimono is riding up.

“You paid for a room,” Kiba reminds him. “Way less suspicious if you actually bring a whore back with you, you know.”

Those long fingers curl over Kiba's thighs, push his kimono up that much higher without Shikamaru even seeming aware of the movement. “Won't your friends get suspicious?”

Pulling back, Kiba lets Shikamaru see his smile, quick and sly. “What? You think this is the first time they’ve seen me disappear into a brothel for the night? You can get a lot of good information playing a prostitute.”

Shikamaru's grip tightens, and he jerks back, mouth a tight line, nostrils flaring. Kiba catches the offence on his face before he can say anything, kisses him hard before the words can get out and smears crimson lipstick between their mouths.

“Hey,” he says roughly, when they part, because Shikamaru is watching him with dark, dark eyes and an unreadable expression, and Kiba isn’t about to let that stand. “How the fuck is that different from a seduction mission Konoha would give me? _Think_.”

“I don’t need _you_ to remind me of that,” Shikamaru mutters, but he blows out a breath, cups the back of Kiba's head and threads his fingers through his hair. “You look weird with a bun.”

He doesn’t mention Kiba's ruined clan markings, which is a relief. It lets Kiba mean it when he grins, reaching up to pull the delicate kanzashi out of his hair. “Like I'm going to kick your ass again?”

Shikamaru huffs. “You’re so troublesome,” he complains, but his eyes are on the smeared lipstick, drop from there to the slipping collar of Kiba's kimono and trace the loosened fold down to the obi. His fingers pluck at the tie, and he smooths a hand over Kiba's stomach, breathes in. “Tied in front,” he says. “Somebody had fun playing dress-up.”

It would probably ruin the mood to tell him Deidara and Konan helped him dress, Kiba thinks. He really did come here intending to get fucked tonight; it’s been a hell of a long time since they last had a chance to do this, and Kiba _wants_. Instead, he laughs, catches Shikamaru's mouth in another hard-edged kiss, teeth and scraped lips and tangled tongues, and drags his hands up Shikamaru's sides.

“So the rich silk merchant’s got a call boy all to himself tonight,” he murmurs, teasing, and leans in to tug lightly on one of Shikamaru's earrings with his teeth. “What sort of dastardly things is he going to do with sweet, innocent me?”

Shikamaru snorts. “Innocent?” he drawls, but he slides his hands across skin, pushes the kimono up until Kiba's legs are entirely bare. “Not likely.”

Snickering, Kiba tightens his thighs, shifts forward. The line of Shikamaru's cock is obvious through his pants, and he presses on top of it, rocking his hips. It makes Shikamaru moan, makes Kiba catch his breath, and he groans into Shikamaru's mouth. “I notice you didn’t say anything about the sweet part.”

“You’ve been eating sugar,” Shikamaru accuses, breathless, and turns, toppling Kiba over onto the mattress. On instinct, Kiba rolls, catches himself on his hands and knees, and moans when Shikamaru grabs his hips and drags him back. That hard cock presses up against his ass, Shikamaru's hands busy sliding the neckline of the kimono down over his shoulders.

“Doggy style?” Kiba laughs, but he can barely get the air for it with Shikamaru's weight on him, Shikamaru's hands splayed over his ribs and his mouth on Kiba's neck. “Fuck you, bastard.”

Shikamaru bites the nape of his neck, and Kiba jerks, squeaking. He can _feel_ the smirk that Shikamaru presses into his skin, but with those teeth against his spine it’s like every muscle is locked in place. Not tension, not quite, but perfect awareness that there are only so many ways to move and Shikamaru is currently controlling most of them. It’s very nearly too much, and Kiba shudders, ducks his head, his shoulders pulling up.

That’s all he has to do. Instantly, Shikamaru sits back, asks, “Kiba?” in a tone that’s nothing but concern.

 _Fuck_ but Kiba missed him.

“I want to—can I be in your lap?” he asks hoarsely, because he wants Shikamaru desperately, but…not like that. Not from behind, when it could be anyone. Not with a bite like that, not when Shikamaru isn’t Inuzuka and can't know what it means.

“Sure,” Shikamaru says, like it doesn’t matter to him either way, and slumps against the headboard. He catches Kiba's hands, hauls him up and in and wraps his arms around him, and Kiba hugs him back, burying his face in Shikamaru's hair. Shikamaru's grip tightens, and there's a sigh against his collarbone.

“Maybe,” Shikamaru says, offhand, “it’s not a rich silk merchant and a call boy. Maybe it’s two people who love each other, but there's something keeping them apart.”

Kiba’s heart turns over his chest, tumbles and skips a beat, and he laughs before he can help himself, catches Shikamaru's face between his hands and kisses him hard.

“You _asshole_ ,” he says, instead of what he means. “Gods, would you just fuck me already?”

Shikamaru kisses him back, but he’s smiling, smiling like he knows what Kiba is really saying, what Kiba isn’t going to _let_ himself say until he can finally come home. “I guess I could,” he says, like it’s a burden, and smirks when Kiba punches him in the shoulder. Still, his hands are quick and deft as he unknots the obi, shoves the kimono off of Kiba's shoulders and then right off the bed. Kiba snickers, even as Shikamaru pulls the tie from his hair, throws the remaining kanzashi towards the bedside table.

“First round like this?” Kiba suggests wickedly, pressing their cocks together and wrapping his hand around both shafts. He groans at the too-dry drag of silken skin, lets his head fall back, and Shikamaru's breath catches audibly in his throat.

“Hang on while I try to find an objection,” he says, and when Kiba raises an eyebrow at him, he smirks. His fingers tangle with Kiba's, and he strokes a thumb over the head of Kiba's cock, skims a nail beneath the head and catches Kiba's cry in his mouth. Gentle teeth close on Kiba's lower lip, and Shikamaru looks up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, expression so perfectly wicked that Kiba can't quite breathe.

“Oops,” he says, and when Kiba blinks at him blankly, brain entirely shorted out, he grins. “Guess I lost it. Sorry.”

Kiba groans out a laugh, tips forward and kisses him, rocking his hips in a long slow thrust. “I _hate_ you, you fucker,” he says, and means precisely the opposite.

Shikamaru hums, unconcerned, and strokes them slowly, and Kiba's close enough to see the flutter of his long lashes, the hitch of his chest. “At least you're a good lay,” he offers, and steals Kiba's laughter right from his mouth. Kiba leans all of his weight on him, keeps his hand tight as he pumps them, and Shikamaru might be going for rhythm and deftness but Kiba just wants him. Wants them, and this, and anything he can take. He drags the callused pads of his fingers up delicate skin, thrusts forward and slides them together, kisses Shikamaru hard and messy and devouring.

Shikamaru bites off a cry, rocking up into him, gives himself over to Kiba's pace and tries to match it, and the pleasure is curling in Kiba's stomach, starting to build. He pants against Shikamaru's lips, keeps his eyes open as their noses bump, and he can _see_ the moment release hits Shikamaru. His other hand tightens on Kiba's hip, his head tips back as his face goes slack, and he shudders and gasps and jerks, wetness filling Kiba's fist as he strokes them desperately, and it’s enough. It’s heat and _smell_ and Kiba takes one breath of it and his orgasm hits him like an avalanche, trembling through him to the tips of his fingers. He gasps out a soundless cry, feels Shikamaru pull him in tight.

“Nothing lasts forever,” Shikamaru says, kisses his temple, and Kiba closes his eyes, smiling to himself. It could mean that their night together will only be so long, but—Kiba knows Shikamaru better than that.

“I can't wait,” he says, and kisses Shikamaru again, just because he can.


End file.
